WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK ISN’T IMPORTANT, most of the time.
And more than that, what you think other people are thinking is often very wrong:
Situation nr. 1: You’re walking down a BUSY street, full of cool kids hanging out and listening to their ghettoblasters and sipping frappucinos. You’re carrying your groceries, nonchalantly whistling and then BANG! You slip on an artfully placed dog turd. You fall flat on your derrière, shopping goes everywhere and you split your lip.
You think:
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod I look like such a DICK. Ohmygod I’m COVERED IN DOG SHIT and everyone can see that I buy cheap groceries. Ohmygod ohmygod I will NEVER survive the embarrassment and humiliation and will forever be associated with the shitty slip in the middle of the street. OHMYGOD MY LIFE IS OVER.”
Everybody else thinks:
Poor thing. I hope she’s OK.
***
Situation nr. 2: You’ve finally plucked up the courage to invite the sexy librarian out to dinner. After months of flirting over Keats, Byron and Bryson, you swallowed your male pride, taken action and invited her out and OHMYGOD she said YES! You’ve spent two hours in the bathroom, scrubbing your crotch twice and re-applying hair-gel three times. You’ve ironed your shirt and are looking pretty darn HOT when you catch a final glimpse of yourself in the mirror. OHMYGOD you’ve got a HUGE ZIT just below your nose. But too late to do anything about it. Bugger. You sit down to dinner, and the evening goes downhill from there.
You’re thinking:
“*Sigh* I reckon my chances are totally blown here. She’s thinking I’m a total LOSER, bringing a frickin’ SPOT to dinner. But it won’t be here for ever, so I’m not going to mention it and will casually cover it with my hand whilst making scintillating conversation, and hopefully salvage the situation.”
She’s thinking:
“He seems like a really hot, intelligent guy. The kind of guy who I’d like to take home and suffocate with my thighs, but I wish he’d stop rubbing that tiny little spot below his nose. It’s getting redder and redder.”
***
Situation nr. 3: You’re at the coolest bar in town. You’ve drunk half a bottle of champagne and have spent the last two hours snorting coke off a toilet seat with an advertising executive you’ve just met.
You think:
OHMYGOD I am on BRILLIANT FORM. I’m looking good, feeling good, and my conversation is just SCINTILLATING. I’m a confident and forthright young person in the prime of my life and the best raconteur you ever met. I’m going to do a tour of the room to introduce myself to everybody.
Everybody else thinks:
What a dick.
***
So there, the definitive guide to how you’re mostly wrong.
When it comes to other people’s thoughts, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT. You are uniquely UNQUALIFIED to offer advice to yourself.
So don’t.
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And also it doesn’t matter if people you don’t know think you’re a d1ck – not everyone in the world can like you. And if they don’t – so what? Concentrate on your friends & family who love you as you are, d1ckish qualities and all…:)
Then you have a few kids and spend the rest of your life covered in vomit and human poo, and you wish you could go back to good old random dog turds.
@THPL – spot on. My family think I’m a dick, but I can live with it.
@annie – arf!
Ahh…the place where panic attacks wait. I’ve been talking a lot lately with my therapist about self talk – reminding myself that people really don’t care about me when they glance my way in the cereal aisle. Really, they just don’t give a shit – they have their own concerns and I’m just not that important (in their lives that is).
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